


Carry That Weight

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Sex, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank has been suffering from nightmares and insomnia, disappearing in the middle of the night. Connor follows him to a graveyard, where he makes a startling discovery...
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Carry That Weight

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Past Character Death of a minor character (not Hank or Connor), grief and trauma. I can guarantee you that it ends with a happy HankCon scenario in which they are both alive and well.

Connor snapped his eyes open once the front door clicked shut. He waited for the inevitable roar of the Oldsmobile's engine turning over before moving from his spot in the living room. He stepped outside in pursuit of his partner, scanning Hank's car from a distance and putting a trace on it.

His internal clock told him it was 2am, but Connor knew that. He'd felt every second in his not-quite-stasis, his constant scan of Hank's vitals enabling him to share in the long hours of his insomnia. Hank didn't sleep much these days, and what sleep came was plagued with restless nightmares, Hank's brain patterns spiking as he thrashed and screamed between the sheets, assaulted by ghosts of things he could never hope to reach back in time and change.

What he needed were roots anchoring him to the present time and place. Giving him a reason to remain in a world that had ceased to hold meaning. Connor summoned an autocab, and it met him at the corner. As it turned out, he didn't need to tail Hank to predict his destination. He was predictable, drawn to Cole's side like a sleepwalker. As if he might reach the graveyard to find Cole's headstone gone entirely, his death just a bad dream, and he could speed home to kiss his son goodnight in some alternate reality. Hank could not pass through a door to another world, though, and in this world, Cole was gone. 

Connor arrived at the graveyard. The iron gates were firmly closed and locked, entry prohibited after dark. There was a man-sized hole in the fence that had clearly served Hank well, though, and Connor found it easily enough with a scan. Hank had left a few hairs behind on the wire, and his coat had become caught on it, leaving a few precious fibers in its wake.

Connor usually turned back at this point in his pursuit. He didn't want to intrude on Hank's privacy, but enough was enough. Connor was determined to return Hank to bed even if he had to drug the man to give him a good night's sleep. He preconstructed himself carrying Hank over his shoulder, a sly smile crossing his face. Hank would not give up this ritual without a fight, and Connor hoped he could achieve his goal with reason, not force. Hank had to have a reason for replacing the bar with the graveyard, and Connor hoped he could replace both with therapy. They seemed to be stuck at this point, never moving forward with their lives, but waiting for the spring thaw to come like it might rouse them from stasis by itself. Connor knew better. He'd waited long enough for this matter to resolve itself, and he knew his intervention was needed.

The air was chill, and a temperature warning let Connor know he should seek shelter. The few snowflakes were enough to warn him that a blizzard was on the way. Androids could freeze, but he wasn't planning on going home without Hank. Not this time.

He saw Hank silhouetted in the shadow of a streetlamp that shone in from the road. Connor kept his footsteps light as he approached, not wanting to alert Hank of his presence just yet. Hank stood over the tiny child's grave, his head bowed.

"Hank." Connor called out to the unreachable shadow standing in front of him. Enough was enough. "It's time to come home. Nothing you can do will bring Cole back. You need to get a good night's sleep."

Hank laughed, a low, dry chuckle as he spun on his heel. His body blocked the headstone, as if he was intentionally standing between Connor and a damning truth. What did he think Connor might do?

Connor took another step forward. Hank stood his ground, an immovable object in Connor's path, the black shadow taking on form and substance like a brick wall of pure darkness standing between Connor and this private part of Hank's life.

"Connor, you're the one who should go home, all right? This is none of your business." Hank shook his head, his hair moving with it and concealing his twinkling blue eyes. "My grief is mine. Let me deal with it."

"I want to help you." Connor reached up and tentatively placed his hand on Hank's shoulder. "Please stop shutting me out."

Hank sighed and shook Connor off, his breath turning to vapor in the freezing night air. "I'm tryin' to protect you!"

"Protect me from _what_?" Connor's emotional shifts could be brutal since deviancy, and rage hit him now with all the force of a hurricane, unpredictable and devastating in its immediacy. He shoved Hank aside, shining a flashlight on the gravestone. A small teddy bear sat on the dais, and he angled the beam upwards to look at the engraving.

ALICE WILLIAMS July 3rd, 2033—November 6th, 2038

Connor froze as if rooted to the spot by a command, his anger leaving like it had been banished to another world. The image of Alice and Kara on the highway replayed in his memory. He'd pursued them across the high speed freeway, darting between traffic in a way that only androids could manage. Alice slipped, and was hit by a truck right in front of Connor's eyes. Kara fled, never to be seen again. Their previous owner, Todd Williams, had given the DPD a full statement about their violent getaway. Omitting the parts that made him look bad, of course. Connor's scan revealed he had a black eye caused by an android fist, and red ice residue was all over his clothing. He hadn't been a good owner.

Alice had lived a terrible life, only to be hounded by Connor into a pointless death.

"We did this." Hank's voice was low and soft, filled to the brim with remorse. "Todd wouldn't take Alice's body. He wanted it to go to the scrapyard. I paid for her burial myself. Figured it was the least I could do."

"We didn't know," Connor protested. "How could we?"

"Ignorance isn't a defense. Mine or yours. But I didn't want you to shoulder this burden, especially since we have no idea how culpable you were for your actions."

"You tried to stop me," Connor argued. "I chose to disobey orders."

"You chose to obey CyberLife's orders. Capturing Kara and Alice served the investigation. You were all about the mission back then. Not a hint of deviancy about you." Hank sighed. "I didn't try hard enough to stop you. I was conflicted about right and wrong, dragged along on a leash by my own prejudice. If I'd been kinder to androids in general, maybe this tragedy could have been averted."

"We barely knew each other back then." Connor's argument was weak, and he knew it. He'd also been conflicted that morning. The altercation with Hank at the office had been unpleasant, and it had only spurred him to try and impress the Lieutenant more. He'd believed taking a risk to solve the case would make Hank like him more.

The consequences of that selfish, unnecessary act had been devastating.

"I threatened to throw you in a dumpster and set it alight. I didn't exactly encourage your humanity. I think a lot about Kara. I put her through the same nightmare I lived when I lost my son. That's why I can't sleep at night, Connor."

"I remind you, don't I?" Connor bowed his head. "Every time you look at me you see that moment in time."

Hank grunted. It wasn't a denial. "I'm working on it. In my own way. I just need time." Hank pulled a cigarette out of a battered packet and lit it up. That was one habit he'd yet to kick. "That's why I didn't want you to know. You shouldn't have to carry this weight." He breathed out a long puff of smoke as snowflakes settled in his hair. "I'm afraid you won't stay."

"Where else would I go?" Connor asked.

"You could go anywhere you wanted. It might be better for you to make a fresh start, but I admit I'm selfish. I like you, Connor. More than like, if I'm bein' completely frank. Sometimes I think about us as… partners, until the end." Hank huffed, a laugh that wouldn't quite pass his lips. "That's keepin' me awake, too. I know you're not interested."

Connor couldn't suppress the smile that crossed his face, or the joy that flooded his circuits. "What led you to that conclusion?" He reached his hand up and lifted Hank's chin until their eyes met. The cigarette fell from Hank's lips as their gazes locked, and Connor stubbed it out with his shoe. "I think your detective instincts need fine-tuning."

Hank placed his hand over Connor's. "You're cold. Colder than usual. We've got to get you home."

"No. No more evasive maneuvers, Lieutenant. I have been waiting over three months for you to make your move. I was starting to believe _you_ weren't interested."

"Make my move? Connor, I was never going to make a move." Hank pulled Connor's hand away from his face and clasped it in both of his. "We could never—"

Connor didn't want to hear the rest of the sentence. It would be more damning than finding Hank here, still brooding over his guilt regarding the revolution and his part in working against it. He didn't want to hear how Hank thought he would never be good enough for him, how it could never work, or any other excuse the man could come up with.

So, he kissed Hank. He'd never kissed before, but he'd preconstructed it, many times. It was nothing like he'd imagined. Hank's mouth was hotter than the sun, his lips opening in surprise to let Connor in. Connor held nothing back, desperate to avoid the kind of chaste kiss that could be misinterpreted as friendly or familial. His intentions towards Hank were anything but, his sexual functions activating as they locked lips in the silent graveyard. Hank tasted like cigarettes, but Connor didn't find it unpleasant. This was Hank he was kissing, the subject of a million fantasies on his part. The taste of ashes and the concept of sex on the Oldsmobile's red leather seats were part and parcel of the fantasy.

Hank drew back, gasping for breath. "I can't say I imagined our first kiss would take place in a graveyard."

"Neither did I," Connor said. "Will you come home with me, Hank? We have a lot to talk about, and I'd like to do it in a place where my vital biocomponents aren't in danger of freezing."

"Of course," Hank replied. He slipped out of his thick winter coat and threw it around Connor's shoulders. Connor pulled it tight around himself, following Hank out of the graveyard. The coat smelled like Hank, and it was akin to being held by the man. He never wanted to take it off.

Connor risked one last glance over his shoulder at Alice's grave. He'd felt something when she'd been killed in front of him. It had been his first step towards deviancy, but it hadn't been enough on its own to break the chains binding him to his mission. To think Hank had taken on that responsibility in his stead…

He closed his eyes. Hank was full of surprises, but that was why he loved the man so much. Beneath his gruff, angry exterior lay a sensitive, gentle man with a deep sense of honor and loyalty.

Connor owed Hank his life, and he resolved to never let him forget that fact. He only hoped it was enough to mitigate the guilt that still lingered inside them both, so that they might leave it in the past and move on to a brighter future.


End file.
